His End of Days
by Serronas
Summary: Dorian had thought that the End of Days would be the day Corypheus raised Skyhold. Part of him had expected to die, to lose friends, to be injured; but the Inquisitor proved to be made of something far better than a corrupted Tevinter mage. Dorian had been wrong. His End of Days came from the rogue arrow of an Orlesian assassin.


Summary: Dorian had thought that the End of Days would be the day Corypheus raised Skyhold. Part of him had expected to die, to lose friends, to be injured; but the Inquisitor proved to be made of something far better than a corrupted Tevinter mage. Dorian had been wrong. His End of Days came from the rogue arrow of an Orlesian assassin.

Warnings for: Death, Gore

The End of Days

A Oneshot

_A folded blanket from cold nights…_

_An axe still stained in tainted Templar blood…_

_A promise never broken…_

_Half of a dragon's fang…_

"Are you sure about this, Dorian?" Skyhold was cold, as it often was, but the air was eerily still in the silent morning before the sun's rise, the Frostbacks holding their breath in preparation of a new dawn. A few members of the servant staff bustled about the grounds, the baker was rolling his dough in the tavern, and the night-watch patrolled the ramparts one last time before the change of guard. It was strange to see the place he had come to know as so full of life be so silent and calm. But the Inquisitor's voice was enough to carry through such lonely thoughts – there was a reason he was Andraste's Chosen, whether he started that way or not. But just seeing Thidran Adaar's face was painful.

"Yes. I need some time…" Dorian turned his honey eyes up to see Thidran's frame, a powerful silhouette in the pre-morning light. He was strong, physically and mentally, that much had been proven, but no matter what he was Qunari (or rather, Tal'vashoth), and Dorian just couldn't handle that. "Please, if Solas returns, alert me immediately."

"Solas?" Thidran asked with understandable confusion. Dorian had never been very close to the elf, nobody had, but he doubted that the Inquisitor would understand. Regardless, the man's wide shoulders slumped slightly, "Yes, very well. You'll have word as soon as we find something. But are you sure you wouldn't like an escort? At least to the-"

"I'll be fine!" Dorian cut in perhaps too sharply. He saw his friend's frame stiffen a little and he turned his eyes down, ashamed of his lack of self-control. He took a breath and chose new words to assuage his hostility, "I'm sorry. I'll… I can handle the journey on my own."

There was a long pause where a goodbye belonged, where they once would have shared a hug or friendly words of well-wishes. Instead, Dorian Pavus turned and grabbed the reins of his horse, adjusting the band of the wrapped axe over his shoulders before he hauled himself up. Normally he had help getting into a saddle. Once he was situated he tested his balance and nudged the beast towards Skyhold's main gates.

"Be safe." Thidran finally said, willing their parting words to be good ones.

Dorian held no such desire and simply nodded as he moved. He was terrible at goodbyes. At that moment, only Thidran knew of his leaving and such was only because the mage knew that if he didn't give proper word then the Qunari would send half of Skyhold after him in worry. He meant well, truly.

The others would worry, but they likely understood.

The ride to Tevinter would normally take three days at a decent pace. Dorian took well over a week's time to reach the border, and another two days to reach Minrathous. He never once got lost on the way there, but stopped several times when he felt another anxiety attack curling in his chest. He would sit and pull his knees up, clutching a ragged old blanket around himself as if he were truly freezing.

"_Why is it always so cold? How do you Southerners stand it?" Dorian was knee deep in the snow drifts of Emprise Du Lion, shivering and sniffling. Admittedly he looked amazing as always, but he never actually thought he would die to keep his sense of fashion. Hypothermia was looking like a very painful way to go, especially when anyone else was likely to die from demons or red Templars._

_From up ahead, The Iron Bull chuckled, "What's the matter? Not enough slaves around to rub your footsies?" Of course the Qunari brute was wearing just his harness and those ridiculously large pants, the cold not even appearing to faze him. Bastard._

_The Tevinter mage puffed up, "My footsies are freezing, thank you!" He shot in return, ignoring the sideways look he got from Varric for his comment._

_Nothing more was said on the matter, and Dorian went on shivering so violently that his teeth chattered loudly in the cold, empty air. Next time they went to this frigid land of desolation, he would make sure Thidran took Solas. The Qunari spent enough time staring at the elf's rear as it was, all Dorian would have to do was make up some old ruin to get the Apostate excited to go._

_He was sitting beside the fire as night was closing in, near enough to the flame that he was tempted to simply crawl in. Something heavy dropped over his shoulders and startled him enough that he looked up to see that Bull was moving to sit down a few feet away. The blanket surrounding Dorian was assuredly the Qunari's; It was huge, big enough to cover four humans easily, with a rough fabric that seemed to be made of burlap, but oh it was heavy and warm. The mage didn't say a word as he gathered up the blanket around himself and found the biting cold almost completely blocked out._

_It was a few minutes later that his nose stopped running, and he was able to take in the scent of something heady and powerful. He pulled some of the blanket up over his head like a hood to keep his ears warm and was almost completely enveloped by the raw scent of Bull, thick and powerful (though not entirely pleasant, he had to admit). It was a man's scent, and despite the obvious touch of unwashed body odor, there was something altogether comforting about the sense of safety it carried. Bull had to survive without his precious blanket that night._

_And the night after…_

Dorian inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. The scent was still strong enough that the memory felt fresh.

_A knock at the door made Dorian look up and frown. He was just getting ready for bed, the moon was high, and there was little that would make the mage lose out on his beauty sleep. He fixed his long emerald robes and ran his fingers through his hair to fix any cowlicks before going to answer his door, mildly surprised to see The Iron Bull filling his doorway._

"_You should stick to magic, Dorian, stealing isn't your thing." The massive Qunari folded his arms over his chest and Dorian felt a thread of unease in his gut._

"_What are you talking about?" he feigned his innocence behind a mask of incredulity._

_Bull rolled his one good eye but seemed more amused than upset, "The guard said he saw you sneaking out of my room earlier and I know how cold your footsies get."_

"_I…that's preposterous! Like I would take anything from you, especially that pathetic excuse for a—hey!" Dorian was pushed out of the way as Bull muscled his way in and walked over to the bed where the stolen property was still very obvious. Dorian's cheeks burned but he held his ground, "For such a shoddy material, it's remarkably warm." He huffed._

"_Looks can be deceiving huh?" The Bull grinned and waggled his single brow._

_The mage rolled his eyes, "Take your blanket and go, I would like to get some sleep."_

_Suddenly the warmth of the blanket was surrounding him as he was pulled closer to a large body that radiated heat, "You know I'm up to…sharing the blanket if you ever want." The Qunari suggested, "All you gotta do is ask."_

_The heat was comforting, the body inviting, and there was that scent again invading and strong, but the mage had a reputation to uphold and so he scoffed, pushing himself away, "Out!" He barked, shoving Bull towards his door._

Dorian smiled at the stupid memories as errant tears ran unbidden down the contours of his face. He buried himself in the blanket more often than not, and found a corner of the material was perpetually damp. He didn't care anymore.

He travelled light, and hardly noticed he was barely eating one meal a day. The loneliness was crushing, aching… He had grown used to having someone to talk to, someone to count on. However as his horse made its way into the sprawling beauty of Minrathous, Dorian felt a wash of relief crest over him as a sense of home eased the raw ache in his chest. He still had a ways to go to get to Qarinus, but he still felt more at ease than he had in weeks.

"_Dorian, you've been to Minrathous, right?" The group had been travelling in the Hinterlands for just over a day and had gone quiet after a particularly rough scrape with the demons of one of the rifts. The question from The Iron Bull caught the mage off guard…_

"_Of course. I'm not a plebian." Came his response without needing thought, but when the memories came to mind they brought a longing smile to his lips that he hoped nobody else saw. Bull did, of course._

_Bull grinned, pressing the matter, "You ever been to that place in the Vivazi Plaza, with the big cracked bell hanging off the roof?"_

_That longing turned into a pang, something painful. Dorian was still struggling with having made the decision to leave home. "With the dancers, yes. You're making me homesick." He said curtly in an effort to cut the conversation before it got more distressing. When did Bull spend time in Minrathous? The thought of the Qunari in his homeland's capital sent unease through him._

_It was several hours later in the glow of the campfire, after Solas and the Inquisitor had gone to bed, that Bull spoke up again. "What's that place called again, Dorian?"_

"_What place?" the mage asked with a yawn. He was once again wrapped comfortably in Bull's blanket, it had become something the mage practically demanded now when they travelled._

"_With the dancers, and the bell…"_

_There was silence for a long moment before the mage sighed, too tired to be petulant. "Terrazi. Terrazi of Vivazi. The dancers started as a way to ease the minds and bodies of injured Tevinter soldiers after their skirmishes with the Qunari." He said softly, "And the bell is Renfole's Grace. Originally it was crafted by the dwarves long ago, but during the invasion from the Qunari, Renfole struck the bell with such might as to warn the people of Tevinter of the coming attack that the bell cracked from the force."_

"_Huh… They teach you all that in those fancy schools?" Bull asked and it was surprisingly callous, enough to make the mage bristle._

"_When one has a love of his country, he makes a point to learn all he can." Dorian said sharply, some of the exhaustion dispelling in the hostility._

_More silence curled around them uneasily, "Sorry." Bull finally said._

_Dorian stood up and brushed himself off, "I'm going to bed." _

Minrathous was as beautiful as Dorian remembered, but every time he came to the city he saw more and more decay and wear. Every building was crafted from an age long past, but there was despair in the chipped paint and stone, exhaustion in the mold filled alley ways. His people needed help, and with the inspiration brought about by the Inquisitor, he hoped to be among the ones to bring such assistance.

He made a point to pass through the Vivazi Plaza, to look up at the cracked bell, and he smiled for the first time since…

Since…

He pressed on through the plaza and stopped at a Tavern. It would be the first bed he would sleep in since leaving Skyhold. He had his horse stabled and paid for his room and three bottles of good Minrathous wine. He missed it. He missed a lot of things.

His room was plain, but the bed was at least large. He took off the heavy shoulder strap and let down the axe on his back with a grunt. She was wrapped in cloth, but it was still obvious what the item was. An axe almost as tall as Dorian himself, and it weighed enough that he had struggled to lift it with his back. He found the pressure oddly comforting though, and when it was gone, he felt the swell of loneliness crowding him once more.

He set the three bottles down on the nightstand nearest the window and went to open it to the city. The scent of Minrathous filled his lungs as he sat down and took the first bottle, then grabbed the pack he'd brought up from his horse's saddle bag. Dorian uncorked the bottle of wine and took a long pull straight from the top, the smooth liquid easing his parched throat. It was then that he realized he hadn't actually eaten that day as the alcohol quickly made its way into his system.

He smiled.

From inside of the pack, the mage extracted a vial. The contents inside were bright blue and glowed from its own existence. He hadn't taken Lyrium since he was in training, it was easy to get addicted and stint one's own magic from dependence. He didn't care anymore. He pulled the stopper from the vial and took a deep inhale of the contents, relaxing, then emptied the vial into the wine.

With a few distinct swirls, the alcohol began to glow and hum. On his next pull of the bottle he felt as if he were in heaven. The sweet smoothness of the alcohol and the soft, icy texture of the Lyrium seized him, body and mind, nothing else mattered. He lost his ability to stand after the first bottle, and after the second, he found himself curled up with Bull's blanket around the wrapped axe.

_Rifts were not Bull's favorite thing. In fact, Dorian knew that the Qunari loathed demons – a fear he didn't try to hide much. Yet still he charged into the thick of the rifts at the Inquisitor's word to fight what he openly feared. At least, Dorian had thought as much at first._

_Surely The Iron Bull and the Inquisitor shared a kinship; they certainly shared the battlefield like brothers of war. But Thidran couldn't always protect the Bull's back when both of the Qunari were focused on what was in front of them. Dorian wasn't sure when that became his job… The first time was when a demon was lunging for Bull's back, Dorian hadn't even registered the threat before he was casting a spell, launching great spikes of ice through the creature until it crumbled to mist and was pulled back into the rift._

_It happened so fast he didn't think Bull saw it._

_He didn't realize at the time how much The Iron Bull actually saw, even missing one of his eyes._

_They were getting their wind back after the fight when Bull clapped Dorian on the back so hard it threw the mage forward several steps. "Nice work with the magic back there, Dorian. You're pretty good at blowing guys up!"_

_Dorian was straightening himself out (in only the most literal sense of the term) as he tried to assert his pride, "It's significantly more impressive than hitting them with a sharp piece of metal." He scoffed._

"_Hey, whoa, let's not get crazy." The Bull laughed out loud, jovial and with all of his body. There was a pause, Dorian thought the conversation over, "But really, thanks. It's good to know someone's got my back like that." It was the first time Dorian noticed how nice of a smile the Qunari had…_

_After that, Dorian continued to have Bull's back in a fight. He didn't consider needing someone to watch his back until the day it was almost too late._

_Red Templars were always difficult to deal with, not just because of their knowledge of how to deal with magical foes but because the red Lyrium sang such a strange song. It was distracting, and Dorian learned that he couldn't afford to ponder about her siren song in the thick of battle._

_There were too many Templars to count in Daerwin's Mouth, the cave felt claustrophobic, and the clusters of red Lyrium were so distracting. Varric was with them, helping them find the main supplies of the stuff to destroy, but it was very well protected._

_The Qunari pair were in the front again, handling the bulk of the Templars, but the Lyrium's song alerted Dorian to something from behind. He spun around and had a spell ready, not prepared for how the shield was angled, how his fire was thrown back at him down at his feet, burning his ankles. He tried to jump back as the Templar pressed forward in the same instant and was knocked to the ground, already preparing another spell when the sword was swung and knocked Dorian's staff from his hand._

_The follow through was swift. No sooner was his staff knocked away, the Templar twisted his sword to prepare the final blow aimed for the mage's heart. He had no time to conjure a spell without his staff and was too stunned to move away._

_He had believed, in that moment, that was how he was going to die._

_There was a roaring snarl and a spray of blood just before the blade was due to come down. Dorian blinked, stunned, as the Templar had so quickly become two halves of a man on the ground. The Iron Bull was standing over Dorian, lifting his axe back up as he growled again. He stepped back and suddenly Dorian found himself being hauled up to his feet by the front of his shirt, Bull looking him over with a critical eye._

"_You alright?" The Qunari asked._

"_I…" Dorian was still stunned but he managed a nod, "I'll be fine. Thank you, Bull."_

_The man snorted and grinned, "These guys were trained their whole lives to fight mages. A lot of them have lost their senses in the madness of the Lyrium, but it's the ones who haven't that are most dangerous. Keep close 'Vint." He clapped the mage on the back and nearly sent him flying back to the ground._

_Before he could respond, Bull was gone again._

_Though Bull didn't bring the incident up again, it stuck with Dorian. A Qunari warrior had saved his life, and a Tevinter mage had saved Bull's. The South was truly a strange place._

_That night, after Varric and Thidran went to their beds, Dorian once again found a heavy blanket being dropped over his shoulders. Bull smirked as he sat down, and Dorian had a quip ready on the tip of his tongue, but couldn't bring himself to say it. Instead, he found himself moving closer, and invited himself to sit right in Bull's lap._

_He was warm, though many of his angles were hard. To his credit, Bull didn't say a word, and instead reached up to fix the blanket and pulled Dorian closer. Dorian wasn't quite sure when they started kissing, but it simply happened and felt right. Strong arms wrapped around his waist and held him firmly against Bull's body and Dorian reached up, wrapping his own arms around Bull's shoulders, hands coming to rest on those wide horns._

_Curious, he thought as he let his fingers trace over the rough surface. Never had the mage thought he would get the chance to touch a Qunari's horns unless he was being gored by them._

_Never had he been kissed so wholly. The sensation was that of being devoured, but not out of a rushed lust as he was used to from his kinsmen, but like that of a starving man getting food for the first time in months. There was no tongue or force, but being surrounded by warmth and having such a strong body against him was enough to make him dizzy all on its own._

_When they finally broke apart, neither of them said anything for a moment. Dorian moved and tucked his head into the curve of Bull's throat, fixing the blanket around himself once again. Finally, Bull broke the silence, "It's probably gonna get colder tonight."_

"_Wonderful." Dorian scoffed, turning to bury his face in warm, thick skin to avoid a small gust of wind._

"_Care to share the blanket?" There was a smirk in that voice, but Bull's arm was still wrapped around Dorian's waist, keeping him close. The mage wasn't used to that, wasn't accustomed to being held or feeling…wanted. So often it was about sexual needs and lust._

_What would the Inquisitor think if he woke and found Dorian not in his bed. If he went to Bull to alert him that the mage was missing only to find them tangled together like…like…_

"_As nice of a thought as that is, I'd rather not give Varric new material for one of his trashy novels." He deflected, slowly sitting up._

_A long silence fell between them and Dorian took the opportunity to study the Qunari's face again. "Thank you, though. For earlier I mean, in the caverns."_

_Understanding dawned on the other's face and he gave a small nod, "It's what me 'n my axe are for 'Vint. You got my back, I got yours." And as he said that, a large hand pressed against Dorian's back and they were kissing again._

_They shared the blanket that night._

Most nights, since leaving Orlais, Dorian got almost no sleep. He had grown so used to hearing other voices, servants moving about. Without them, he lay awake for hours no matter how exhausted he was. With them, he at least had something else to listen to. Alcohol helped, and he found that Lyrium could make his dreams feel real. He could live in his memories and forget…

Some nights though, sleep found him quickly. Those were the nights he was visited by the Wolf in the forest. Dorian wasn't sure if he liked these dreams or not, because the Wolf would look upon him with such sorrow in his eyes as they walked aimlessly through the dreamed forests.

Tonight was one of those nights. The alcohol and Lyrium pulled him into a deep slumber and he found himself not in the embrace of one of his memories, but standing in a dimly lit forest with everything cast in green. His companion stood before him as silent as ever, large even (or especially) for a wolf. He stood taller than Dorian and had wide, intelligent eyes. Sometimes Dorian expected the beast to speak, it was a dream after all, but he never did.

They walked, winding through the trees. Dorian reached out a hand and buried it in thick black fur, finding an immeasurable amount of comfort from the beast. He, much like Bull, made the mage feel safe.

Sometimes Dorian spoke, just to ease the silence. Not tonight, however. Even in a dream, he felt too drunk and relaxed to talk to something that wouldn't talk back. At least with the Wolf, he wasn't so lonely.

Dorian's foot caught on an errant root, he stumbled and fell to the ground on his hands and knees and suddenly felt too heavy to get up. He looked and saw the Wolf watching him with those wide, sad eyes and it motioned for him to get up and follow. "I can't…" the mage breathed weakly, an unknown weight holding him down, "I can't…"

The Wolf was before him suddenly, and Dorian's arms were full with a furry body as he collapsed into tears.

It happened every time. Every dream with the Wolf ended with him crying like a child, clinging so tight that a normal animal would choke. But the Wolf just lay down to give the fallen mage better access, turned its great head as if to hold the man and waited patiently. "Why…" he asked the Wolf, burying his face in the creature's fur near its ear, "Why can't I get back up?"

The Wolf didn't answer, of course it didn't. Instead the beast raised its great head and let out a loud, mournful howl.

Dorian felt the howl carry his consciousness out of the world of dreams. He woke with a stiff neck, his head resting on the flat of the covered axe which made it throb painfully, his body ached as he moved. So he chose to remain, pressing his face against the hard metal, letting the pain of his hangover dull out the ache in his heart.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but a knock at his door had the mage looking up. The distance between the bed and the door seemed like miles, but the knocker was persistent, "Mr. Pavus?" came a woman's voice.

The mage groaned and pulled himself to his feet, staggering to the door. He knew in an instant that he looked awful by the way the woman's eyes travelled over him with a grimace. He couldn't tell her features, all he really saw was olive skin and brown hair. She didn't have a weapon, so it didn't matter. "Can I help you?" Dorian asked, and she flinched away from what must have been horrible breath.

"Um…you only paid for one night. We're going to have to ask you to vacate the room or pay for another night." She said, trying to remain polite and professional.

He swallowed as he pondered this. How long had he been asleep? "I'll be gone in a few minutes." He promised, because even if the prospect of staying another night wallowing in wine and self-pity was nice, he knew he needed to finish his pilgrimage home. He offered the woman a wan smile and she returned it with pity.

Always pity.

He was sick of pity.

He waited until the woman left before closing the door, then went to the bed and sat down heavily. He realized, belatedly, that he had fallen asleep in his clothes and even his shoes. His bottles were laid on the floor and there was a stain on his collar. He reeked of alcohol and pondered just staying one more night so he didn't risk returning to House Pavus looking in such a terrible state.

Regardless, he cleaned up his mess and fixed his clothing to the best of his ability. The axe felt even heavier as he shouldered it, attaching the pouch of Lyrium to his belt before he grabbed the last bottle of wine and took his leave of the room. As he left the inn he spotted the woman from his doorway and offered her a smile and gave her a tip for having to deal with him in such an awful state.

His horse was ready from the stables and it took several awkward attempts to pull himself onto the beast's back. He swayed, felt as if he would fall, but pushed the horse to move on the pathway leading out of Minrathous.

He was sure someone had recognized him, that there would be awful rumors about the son of Lord Pavus looking like some unwashed vagabond. He couldn't bring himself to care.

The final stint of his journey to Qarinus was the shortest, and yet the longest. Dorian forewent sleep and finished his final bottle of Lyrium laced wine as his horse followed the path. By the time he reached the edges of his home city he felt sick to his stomach, having not eaten once again.

Even drunk and starving, however, he knew the paths through Qarinus without trouble. The city was in worse shape than Minrathous, given the struggles with the Qunari throughout her history. It was sad to see such beautiful architecture and such a marvelous port town fall to such disarray, the people of the city more worried about another attack happening any day.

House Pavus was a large home, well taken care of despite the city and family's history. Perhaps not the nicest or most garish, it was still a statement to all of Qarinus and the Pavus family was proud, not only of their name, but of their city and people. The house had tall pointed rooftops and arching terraces inviting guests into a colorful garden. During the day the place was a wonderful sight, but at night it felt as lonely as Dorian did.

He pulled himself from his horse and stumbled a little, leading the beast towards the stables in the back. One of the Elven servants was stationed to watch the grounds, spotted the mage as he made his way towards the stables, "Stop!" Came the voice, the male approaching Dorian swiftly before skidding to a halt. "Master Dorian?"

The man smiled weakly, "Hello Vinran," he greeted and offered out the reins, "Be a dear and stable my horse for me? I'm quite exhausted."

Vinran looked exactly the same as Dorian remembered, tall and lean with sunken features. He always appeared sad, but smiled easily. "Of course My Lord," the Elf reached out to take the offered reins, "You're not looking so good sir. Go inside, I shall have Lord Pavus alerted at onc-"

"Please no, that won't be necessary." Dorian cut in quickly, "I would rather make a grand entrance at breakfast tomorrow. You know me." He smirked, but it lacked any mirth, "It's good to see you again, Vinran." He finally said in earnest.

"You as well." Vinran returned, "Your father has been terribly worried."

"I know. I…have many apologies to give." The mage adjusted his shoulder strap and nodded to the elf, "In the morning, I promise." He said before he turned and made his way to the back doorway to let himself inside of the house.

His first thought upon entering was how little had changed. He conjured a flame in his hand to light his path as he walked. The kitchen was clean and tidy, with marble countertops and oak-wood cabinets. The dining room was large, with vaulted ceilings and a long table meant to support a generous amount of guests. The sunroom was wide, with ample sitting room and the outer wall made entirely of windows to let in natural light, and let everyone see the nicest part of the gardens. Of course, the opulence began to fade as the mage made his way up the creaking stairs leading to the second story where guests rarely went. The hallway was uneven, with a tattered rug to hide the worst of the loose floorboards.

Most of the Pavus' money went to the support of their guests comfort and their servants. Halward had always been an advocate that a happy servant was a loyal servant, and it was a motto that had served the Pavus family well.

Dorian's room was a healthy space, unchanged from the day he had left. A large bay window let in natural light, moonlight in that moment, and overlooked the back gardens. He had several tall mirrors set around the room to make sure he looked good from all angles, but as he set the wrapped axe down on his bed he avoided looking at any of the mirrors for fear of what he would see. His bed was massive and plush, with more pillows than any one man would know what to do with, and thick blankets turned down invitingly, as if his father had expected him home any day.

His washroom and closet were hidden behind a door opposite the bed, and he knew he would want a bath drawn as soon as morning light came. First thing, however, he made his way into his closet and peeled off his filthy traveling clothes, skimming through his wardrobe before he found something loose and comfortable.

The man didn't even remember crawling into bed. His next thought was on how bright the sun was in his eyes as he woke up, groggy and in pain, curled around Bull's axe once more.

He was immediately aware of another presence, and shot upright so quickly that his head swam. He groaned slightly, holding his head as he turned his eyes up to his father, Halward Pavus, who sat silently at the corner of his bed.

Dorian turned his gaze to the window briefly, trying to remember what happened. Usually he dreamed, or woke often.

"It's nearly noon." Halward said calmly, "Relax, I didn't want you woken, you look like you need your rest."

Dorian couldn't help the tiny smile, "Are you saying I need more beauty sleep?" He asked the man, pulling himself to the edge of the bed to sit beside his father. Weariness immediately sank into his bones and he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, staring dizzily down at the floor.

"I'm saying you look like the world took the smile from your face." Came the honest reply, one that made the mage's heart sink in his chest.

He shook his head, "You wouldn't be wrong."

"Regardless of your reasoning, Dorian, I have come to accept that you did the right thing. And to see you like this as a result is…agonizing." A hand rested on Dorian's back and he eased somewhat. He saw his father's eyes on the axe, curious but thoughtfully silent. "I have always feared losing you. Regardless of my relationship with your mother, you were always my greatest creation."

"Please…" Dorian said, his voice weak as he felt his eyes begin to sting. He remembered his dream in the forest. Of falling and being unable to get up, "Not now father. I can't…" _get up…_ "I'm just glad to be home, let me have that for a while."

His father nodded solemnly, "I have Marta fixing you a meal downstairs."

Dorian tried for a smile, "Wonderful." He pulled himself up, swaying. His stomach snarled hungrily, reminding him of the abuse he'd put it through, "Dorian?" Halward stood at his side, looking solemn again, "Just…allow me to apologize once more. I meant what I said, I'll never try to change you. Not again. I promise."

_Dorian was flustered. There had been comments and hints from The Iron Bull throughout their times together, whether traveling or around Skyhold. Since their kiss at the coast, however, nothing more had happened save for idle comments. That was, of course, until the night Dorian came back to his room after dinner._

_How Bull had gotten into his room was a mystery, but he nearly jumped out of his skin when he opened the door and saw the Qunari lounging on his bed. Dorian's surprise was met with a grin, "Listen, Dorian…" He began, sitting up straight, "I've been wanting to ask about your…thoughts…since the Coast."_

_This made the mage raise a brow, "My thoughts?" he asked as he closed the door behind him to ensure that no nosy servants poked into his business. How they would love spreading rumors about the evil Tevinter mage and the Qunari._

"_I think I've been making my interests pretty clear. I would never push the matter, of course. But out on the Coast, that was…nice." Bull was shuffling his feet and Dorian found himself awestruck by the fact that the man seemed timid! He held himself back from a bit of amused laughter._

_The mage hummed in thought, "Well you do make for a decent heater." He said, deflecting the main topic. "But to be honest, I thought you would have more of an interest in Thidran than a Tevinter mage."_

"_The Boss is a good guy. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to have a roll in the hay with him, but I don't think he's like that. I think he's looking for something more. Something deeper." Bull said, holding his hands up defensively. He was pacing slowly closer to Dorian._

"_Something deeper? Are you saying you just want a 'roll in the hay'?" Dorian didn't reject Bull's physical advance._

_The man shrugged, "The Qun don't really do relationships. And I figure you aren't looking for anything serious, especially not with someone like me. But exploring the forbidden? I'm pretty sure that's something that'll really get you going."_

_Looking back on it, Dorian realized it was the one time Bull was wrong about him, even if neither of them knew it at the time._

"_Well, I have to say this is the first time that a proposition for sex has sounded like an actual business proposition. For me at least." Dorian said with a smirk. He reached out, his hand coming to rest on a broad chest. Beneath his fingers he felt the roaring drum of Bull's heartbeat like a physical force radiating through him._

_Bull chuckled, "Dropping hints wasn't really working."_

"_You have to realize I've been trained to think a certain way about…" He pondered how to word that without being insulting, but Bull shrugged._

"_I get it."_

_Dorian pushed himself up onto his toes and leaned up. He was met halfway and soon the two were kissing, much like they had been at the coast. It didn't take long before the mage was enveloped in strong arms, hauled against a powerful body, and having the very breath stolen from his lungs by greedy, hungry kisses. With a surge, the Qunari parted his lips and opened Dorian's mouth to his growing hunger._

"_Hmm, before…we do this…" Bull managed between them, pulling away long enough to gather his obviously frayed thoughts, "You need to know… I will never hurt you without your permission. I promise. And if you're ever uncomfortable or want me to stop for any reason, just say Katoh, and it's over, no questions asked…"_

_At the time the words were just a part of their strange deal. Dorian thought very little of it, leaning up for another kiss with a nod of approval._

_Their breaks were only long enough to get a gulp of air, and it didn't take long before there was a bed beneath his back, and as he gripped Bull's horns tight he was rewarded with a surge of urgency and want that had him squirming._

_When Dorian woke the next morning, however, he found himself alone in his bed._

_He tried not to let it bother him._

Marta made a splendid breakfast, fussing over the man while he ate. She told him he had gotten skinny, forced him to have seconds, then thirds. He accepted, unable and unwilling to reject the kindness. He could see the questions in her eyes, much the same as Halward, but she too had the presence of mind to give Dorian time to settle in before badgering him.

He knew it was just a matter of time though.

Marta was perhaps one of the kindest women Dorian knew. She had been with the Pavus family for as long as he could remember; she was the one who took care of him as a child, who sang him lullabies and rocked him to sleep. She was a loving woman, but knew how to be stern without being cruel. Her eyes were a pair of sharpened daggers, beautiful to look at but could cut deep with ease. Her figure was healthy, her hips wide from having three children in her life before her mate had passed from illness.

As Dorian was finishing his last plate, Marta sent a servant up to draw the mage a bath – something he was wildly grateful for. He thanked Marta and hugged her firmly, feeling fuller than he had been in weeks.

Sadly, no sooner did he close his washroom door behind him when his meal came back up.

It wasn't surprising, however. He had been that way for weeks, only able to keep down small amounts of food and an exorbitant amount of wine. Once his stomach finally settled, he made his way to the bath. It felt nicer than he wanted to admit, and he reheated the water several times, until he knew he could stay in the water no longer.

He dressed in a nice coat and pants before making his way back downstairs. Halward was there to greet him, "I was hoping we could sit outside and relax for a while." The man offered with honesty in his eyes.

Dorian smiled because it did sound nice, "I'd like that." He said, then paused, "I expect there will be…"

"You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to." His father said, turning to lead them towards the back door, and out into the sunlight. In the afternoon light the gardens really were lovely. Flowers from all over Thedas bloomed proudly. It was horrible for allergies however.

The pair sat down at one of the benches settled near a patch of flowers, relaxing for a moment before the silence became too much, "I'll have you know, I missed home a _great_ deal. I'm happy to be back." And he was, he admitted to himself.

"And home has missed you as well. All of us." Another wave of silence, "I've never known you to carry an axe."

And there it was. He could tell his father he would rather not speak of it, but he had never before been able to be honest with Halward about the issue. He reached up and ran his hand over his mouth, closing his eyes. "It's…not mine. Not really."

"I told you, you don't have to-"

"It's alright. If you want to hear it, then I will tell it." Dorian said.

At that moment, Marta opened the back door and came out with a green bottle and two stemmed wine glasses in hand. She was smiling, though appeared concerned when she looked over to the younger Pavus, "I thought you boys might like a little something to drink." She said as she offered out the glasses. Halward smiled as he took his, and Dorian followed suit. The elf carefully poured each man a healthy glass, "Shall I leave the bottle?"

"Yes please." Dorian said, taking it and setting it down by his feet, "Thank you very much Marta."

She smiled and nodded, then excused herself back into the house. Silence fell between them as Dorian looked at the glass in his hand.

Halward nodded, "I'm guessing this is about a lover."

Dorian sighed, "He was…so much more than that."

_Dorian hated going to Bull's room. There was a hole in the ceiling and even wrapped up with the Qunari his feet were often frozen by the time he left. But he always felt a sting when he left, Bull had made it clear what their relationship was._

_After the third time of having to warm his feet with magic, he firmly instructed Bull, "From now on, we do this in my room. For one, it's freezing in here. Not to mention it constantly smells of sweat and filth."_

"_That's a man's smell, Dorian. You like it and you know it." Bull chortled._

"_Regardless! If you want to continue with this, then you come to my room."_

"_Alright." Bull shrugged easily. Dorian thought it would be that simple._

_But Bull didn't come back to Dorian's room after that. Several days passed, and the mage grumbled as he made his way up the ramparts towards Bull's room. He would drag the damned beast back to his bed if he had to._

"_You like that do you?" Bull's voice was low and unmistakable and made Dorian pause with his hand raised to knock at the door. He frowned, leaning in somewhat. "That's it, just like that. Down, just a little further. Right there, yeah."_

_His heart dropped into his stomach and his hand fell to his side. Dorian cinched his jaw and flinched at the soft, womanly giggle._

"_This feels good." The woman said, "Oh! I'm sorry, was that too hard?"_

"_Nah, it's just fine."_

_The mage spun on his heels and fled, shame and embarrassment welling up behind his eyes. He knew Bull had only wanted something casual, but he had thought the Qunari had the damn decency to let him know if he was wetting his dick with other people!_

_He slammed his chamber doors behind him and paced, focusing on his breathing before he lit one of his books on fire._

_How could he have been so stupid?_

_A few moments later there was a knock at his door. He opened it swiftly, and only saw horns which was enough to rekindle his rage, "What?!" He snarled._

_Thidran looked shocked at the anger coming from the usually relaxed mage. Dorian realized his mistake immediately and sputtered in his shock, "Oh! No, I'm sorry. I thought… No, nevermind. Its been a bad night. Did you need something? Please, come in…"_

_Trying to make up for his terrible attitude he stepped aside to let Thidran in, the Qunari still obviously confused, "I can come back…" he offered._

"_No, it's alright." He sighed, "I just got some bad news is all."_

_There was a long pause as Thidran regarded his friend with concern, then sighed, "I just wanted to make sure you would be ready to go. We're leaving the day after tomorrow for the Hissing Wastes."_

_Dorian blinked, "Oh… Well, actually I don't think I will be needed this time my friend." He admitted weakly. There wasn't an adventure that he didn't take Bull with, not to mention he knew there were dragons out there, and the Qunari warriors would be hunting them down no doubt._

"_I figured you'd be ecstatic to join us for a jaunt in the desert. No more cold for a while." Thidran admitted with a raised brow._

"_While that does indeed sound…splendid… I don't think I'll be up for this one. Besides, wouldn't you much rather take Solas?"_

"_Are you sure everything's alright Dorian?" The Inquisitor ignored the deflection, frowning. "You said you got bad news, you look like you just lost your Mabari." Thidran wasn't as good as Bull at picking up small differences in emotions or behaviors, but the two were close friends. It would be nearly impossible to hide this from him._

_The mage sighed in defeat, "I'll admit. Everything's not alright. But… I was being silly, it was my fault this time."_

"_This time?"_

"_Have you ever expected something without actually expecting it?" At the Inquisitor's questioning look he tried a different angle, "Have you ever wanted something without knowing you wanted it?"_

_There was a short pause before the man nodded, "Yes…"_

"_And even though you didn't know you wanted it, were you upset when you found out you couldn't have it?"_

"_Dorian is there something you're wanting? I'll be happy to help you get it—"_

"_No it's…" He sighed and rubbed his forehead, "It's not that simple." He walked over to his window and leaned against the sill, "You know I've seen how you look at Solas." He said, and this time it wasn't deflection, "I've seen what you'll do to make him happy. But he's not yours, is he?"_

_Thidran sat down on Dorian's bed heavily, sighing, "Is there a point to this?"_

"_We can't control people, Thidran. People will always be just that, people. Each one is different and special in their own ways, and sometimes they hurt you without knowing it." He turned and leaned against the wall, watching the Inquisitor, "You love Solas. Don't deny it."_

"_This is about Bull, isn't it?" The Qunari asked._

_Dorian squirmed a little under the scrutinizing gaze, "No matter what you do, how hard you try, Solas will never love you. Not like that at least. He respects you though, perhaps even admires you. I have no doubt about that. He would do anything for you. And you wouldn't want to change that even if you could, because you wouldn't want to change who Solas is, that's who you fell in love with, exactly as he is."_

_Thidran turned his hand up and stared at the anchor on his palm, "He doesn't love me. He's fascinated by this."_

"_Perhaps at first he was." Dorian said quickly, "But I'm sure that even once that's gone, he'll stick around. Just like I'm sure Varric will, Cassandra, Cullen, Bull…"_

"_What about you?" Once again those critical eyes were on Dorian._

_He sighed and shook his head, "My friend, you are amazing. Truly, an inspiration to anyone who has been in your presence. As much as I would love to stay with the Inquisition however…you've inspired me. Tevinter needs change. I never thought one person could bring about that much change, and I was right. But one person can be the beacon to lead others towards making that change. I will always be your friend, and I hope to always be a part of the Inquisition."_

_A smile curled at Thidran's lips, one that showed he was honored and understood. The Qunari stood and walked over to Dorian, wrapping strong arms around the mage. He hugged back, trying not to notice how this body, though strong, was not as all-encompassing as Bull's was. Which reminded him, "If you could…not bring this up to Bull, I would appreciate it."_

"_Whatever happened between you two is causing you to stay away from him. We can't afford that lack of dynamic, Dorian."_

"_No it's… It's not bad, Thidran. I just need a few days, alright?"_

_The Qunari stepped back, "Alright. I'll trust you. You're a grown man. But if this affects how you two behave around each other-"_

"_Think nothing of it, Inquisitor. I promise you it won't come to that."_

_They left two days later, with Dorian staying behind. Thidran, ever stubborn, took Vivienne instead of Solas. He just hoped they would be alright, the Enchantress was likely to let them all die if she broke a precious nail._

_He spent the day up in the library, perched in his chair with a book that barely held his attention. His real focus was on Thidran and the pain in his friend's eyes. His focus was that of concern towards the ventures of his friends without him there. His focus was on Bull and the man's lustful nature. Dorian had somehow thought he was special._

_Eventually his book was entirely forgotten, and as night set in with a headache in its wake, the mage abandoned his corner. He needed a drink, and he was sure that Varric would provide the ale if Dorian agreed to a few hands of Wicked Grace. So long as it wasn't with that hustling brat Josephine. Pretty and smart as she was, she would take a man for everything he had with a smile on her face!_

_Dorian wandered into the tavern, his eyes searching the room for signs of the Dwarf. The room was a bit sparse without Bull and his Chargers taking up all of the space, roaring and laughing and – "Oh! Dorian, I'm glad I caught you."_

_The mage blinked out of his thoughts as a dwarven bar maiden came jogging up to him. She was a pretty little thing, with a round face and generous freckles, and long red hair one could see from Orlais. "Yes?" he asked, wondering how the women knew him, though there was something about her that was familiar…_

"_Come over here. We got something in for you." She was smiling and happy, Dorian was still used to people treating him with wary gazes and spit on his shoe._

_He followed the woman to the bar cautiously, leaning against it._

"_Just one second, wait here." She told him as she darted behind a door into the back room. The man just raised his brow, wondering how he knew her. Something so familiar. When she came back out, she was hiding something behind her back with a huge grin, "Ok so, I know he really wanted to give this to you himself but he said if it showed up while he was gone to give it to you anyway."_

_Dorian was expecting a knife, a bit of magic perhaps, ready to defend himself against some assault. He was not expecting the thunk of a bottle being set on the counter, a green bottle. He recognized it immediately, reaching out to snatch it up and look over the label with wide eyes, "This is…" His jaw fell open, "Dal Fomoro?!" A very fine Tevinter wine from not just his homeland, his home city in fact!_

"_Yep!" The woman chuckled, "Bull and I had to make a few shady deals to get our hands on that, but maybe I should have waited. The look on your face is priceless!"_

_He blinked and looked up, stunned. Then it dawned on him how he recognized this woman. It was her voice, from Bull's room several nights before. He frowned some, "Oh I'm certain some shady deals were made." He sighed, setting the bottle down, his surprise and thirst gone for the time being._

"_Yeah, after our first supposed vendor tried to hurt me, Bull started giving me self-defense lessons. He's really nice, he showed me right where to hit to stop a guy in his tracks. And I don't just mean between the legs." She snickered._

_At first Dorian scoffed, then paused, "He…he what? When has he been giving you these lessons?" He asked warily._

"_Usually after my shift's over. Up in his room so the other bar girls don't get jealous." Another giggle._

"_And that's…all you two do?"_

_It was the woman's turn to scoff, leveling Dorian with a steely gaze, "Oh please, when a man risks his life to get someone a few bottles of wine, and sleeps with their underwear under his pillow? I didn't have a chance of getting him into bed."_

"_H-He what?!"_

"_Well those sure as hell weren't women's underwear under his pillow." The woman laughed._

_Dorian wasn't sure what to think. He looked down at the bottle in his hand, then up to the woman. His heart was pounding quite loudly in his chest, enough that he held a hand over it for a moment. "I… Thank you. Did you say bottles? Plural?"_

"_Yeah, got a crate in the back."_

_His brows shot up, "Well then I guess there's no harm in enjoying this one tonight is there?" the mage asked, still slightly stunned from it all. He picked the drink back up._

"_Well, wine is for drinking." She said simply._

"_Oh how little you know of a fine Teviner wine." He said, but he was smiling, "Thank you again, I'm…going to go enjoy this."_

Dorian realized he was being stared at, blinked and looked over to his father. Halward was watching him with a curious gaze, and the mage realized he had forgotten about his drink. He remedied that, taking a sip and letting the wine coat his tongue pleasantly.

His father broke the silence, "I'm not sure what to say. He took the smile from your face, from your eyes."

The mage shook his head slowly, "No, he's the one who gave me reason to smile."

_Dorian had to wait almost an entire week before the group returned from their ventures. He had gone through several bottles of his wine, collecting them on a shelf in his room because they helped him feel at home. They tasted of the things he missed._

_However when he received word that the Inquisitor had returned, the mage smiled and took one of his unopened bottles. Initially he wanted to go to Bull and apologize, but Dorian didn't apologize. At least not like that._

_The mage avoided the tavern, climbing the ramparts and letting himself into Bull's room. He had wanted to go there earlier, he was curious to see if what the Dwarf had said was true. The space was cold, but he could hear some of the goings on of Skyhold if he listened._

_Bull's room was utilitarian; a bed, a nightstand, a chair. The rubble had been cleared out, but the hole in the ceiling remained, letting in the cold night air and moonlight. Dorian sat down on the bed, setting the bottle down at his feet before he looked over to Bull's pillow curiously, and reached underneath. He wasn't sure if he was surprised when he pulled a pair of his black silk underwear out from underneath, smoothing over the fabric with his thumb._

_He sat back against the wall, prepared to wait for Bull to come to bed. However after some time passed, he opened his bottle of wine and took a long drink. Then another. Then a third. Eventually he found himself with his face buried in Bull's pillow, trying to get the scent of the man while enjoying his wine. He didn't hear the heavy footsteps approaching, but did look up when the door opened, a hulking figure stepping inside, "Oh, Dorian?"_

_The mage smiled and sat up, swaying some, "You…" He said, "You got me wine." It wasn't as eloquent as he had intended, and he couldn't see the expression on Bull's face, "And you keep these under your pillow?" He held up the underwear, "Why? When you can have the real thing." He set both the bottle and undergarments down before he stood up and made his way over to Bull, the path not entirely straight._

_He was caught in a pair of big hands, a low chuckle filling the space, "Are you alright?"_

"_Better than alright." Dorian reached up to grab the Qunari's wide horns, dragging him down for a kiss. He was immediately wrapped in big arms, and quite literally crawled up the man's torso, locking his legs around Bull's midsection to kiss him better._

_They broke briefly for air, "I thought you said it's too cold in here."_

"_I'll bury my feet under your arse to keep them warm." Dorian quipped quickly, demanding another kiss._

_He didn't let Bull leave that room the next day._

"You went through a lot in the South it seems." Halward broke the quiet again, pulling Dorian from his woolgathering. He reached up and quickly wiped an errant tear from his face as his father continued as if it hadn't happened, "You've grown."

"I did what was necessary. You know, helped save the world from a terrible evil, all that." The mage tried for a smile but it fell short of expectation, "But you're right. A lot happened, good and bad. I learned a lot about the South, I made a lot of friends, ones I would like to keep connections with."

There was a soft hum, "And yet you came back here?"

"I told you, I missed home. I… I lost one person who was special to me, I don't know what I would do if I lost what remains of my family as well. Whether to death, or to disinterest." He looked down at the grass, took another drink of his wine, "Besides I… There wasn't much left for me there, not enough to stay, when so much needs to be done here now."

Dorian was surprised when Halward pressed closer and wrapped a gentle arm around his son, shockingly comforting, "You just got away from one set of troubles, Dorian. Give yourself time before you rush into more."

The younger turned his head, shoving his face into his father's shoulder and was surprised when he found himself feeling a tiny bit better. The tears started up again, unbidden, and he hid them in his father's collar, "No, I need this. I need the distraction, I need to feel useful."

"My son…" The glass of wine was gently pulled from Dorian's fingers as Halward moved to cradle his son like he would when Dorian was a child. Dorian didn't fight it, and accepted the gesture, feeling the haphazard walls of what remained of his self-control break. His fingers found Halward's shirt and clung there as the tears now fell in earnest, words falling to broken sobs. Once upon a time he would never have allowed this.

Halward remained still for Dorian as they remained there. Eventually the sobs wrung themselves out, the exhausted mage falling asleep in the warm circle of his father's arms.

_Dorian didn't actually know what it meant at the time, but it was assuredly their hardest battle yet. The High Dragon, a creature of legend, who wore the scars of her failed conquerors, who dwarfed her kin, who donned a crown of horns and spat a wreath of fire. She lay dead at their feet. He couldn't quite believe it still._

_Of course it had been The Iron Bull to deliver the final blow, felling the creature with a roar that could be heard throughout the South he was sure. Bull was still vigorously showing his jubilation, and while Dorian had thought that would be with raucous noise, it was instead quiet and proud. He was smoothing his hand over the dragon's scales, smiling proudly. It was his greatest achievement, Dorian thought._

_It was with that thought in mind that Dorian approached the dragon's maw, still hot. Her mouth hung open, her eyes now lifeless. It was a little terrifying how large her head actually was, the mage could easily fit in her mouth with room to spare. _

_His eyes searched towards the apex of her muzzle, where her teeth were the largest, easily larger than Dorian's hand. He found what appeared to be her largest fang, almost burning hot when the mage touched it. A few tugs confirmed that it was nowhere near loose, so he reached to his hip and drew out his dagger, glancing around to make sure nobody was watching before he began to pry the thing free of her maw._

_Once it came loose he tested the weight, easily several pounds, and it would need to be polished of blood and grime, but it would be a fantastic keepsake for Bull. He replaced his dagger and wrapped the fang in a cloth before putting it in his bag, making his way back to the rest of the group._

_Several days after their return to Skyhold, the tooth was thoroughly polished and the base wrapped in fine drakeskin leather, bound to the tooth firmly so there was no need of creating a hole. Varric had helped him in his endeavor, with several teasing remarks about his next book that the mage tried to ignore._

_With the trophy prepared, he hid it in his tunic before making his way to the tavern to fetch Bull. The Qunari was of course surrounded with his Charger, and from the sounds of it, retelling his conquest of the High Dragon once more with that excited gleam in his eye._

"_You know, this would normally be the part where I say you're exaggerating." Dorian said as he approached with a smile, looking at the Chargers before landing on Bull, "But as I was there, I can't say any of it's embellished really. It was truly an amazing battle."_

_Bull raised his flagon with a grin that reached from horn to horn, "Hah! You got that right!"_

_The mage rolled his eyes and nudged the man, "Can I steal you for a few moments?" He asked, and quickly received a collection of whoops and catcalls from the Chargers, "Vishante Kaffas! Must you act like such reprobates?!"_

_Bull was laughing, the sound carrying so easily through the tavern. One moment, Dorian was standing, in the next instant Bull had twisted and swept the mage up and over his shoulder as the Qunari stood, aided by more laughter. "I'll be back, probably in a few hours." He promised, followed by another slew of catcalls._

"_You're all incorrigible!" Dorian barked before they were out of the tavern doors, making their way up the ramparts, "You can let me down now, you great oaf!"_

"_Nah, I like your ass just like this." Bull quipped, patting the mage's rear with a loud clap._

"_Oh, for the love of the Maker." Dorian huffed, letting himself hang because there was no use in struggling._

_They reached Bull's room and Dorian found himself pinned and kissed hard. Bull had yet to lose his adrenaline over the fight with the High Dragon, and it was the reason it had taken Dorian so long to finish his trinket. Admittedly he didn't mind the attention, grabbing Bull's horns as he pulled the man in for a deeper kiss._

_A short time later as they lay curled against one another (because Dorian couldn't resist), he leaned up and kissed the larger man affectionately. "I have something for you." Dorian said as he sat up with a slight wince. He was aware of the eyes on his back._

"_Hmm?" Bull hummed lazily, his eye half-lidded as he looked relaxed and sated for the moment._

_Dorian reached down to retrieve the leather cord and lifted the dragon's fang from his abandoned tunic. He held it up for Bull to see with a smile on his face, "I figured you would appreciate a keepsake from the battle." He said, then grew concerned, "Bull?" The Qunari's eye was wide, a look of shock and disbelief on his face, "What?" The mage asked, "It wasn't much trouble."_

_Then he was being kissed, and it was different from the others. He had kissed Bull while he was desperate but this was something he couldn't describe. Dorian expected another roll in the sheets but he quickly realized that the affection wasn't sexual, and once the urgency faded, was shockingly…sensual. That was the first time he heard it, soft whispers between kisses along his jaw and temple._

"_Kadan."_

_Thick fingers were soothing through Dorian's hair, massaging his scalp. "Care to tell me where that came from?" Dorian asked lightly, his hand smoothing along the bit of spine between his lover's shoulders._

_He was kissed again, gentler but no less…indescribable. "In the Qun we don't have marriage." The man said, then paused, "Well, didn't…" Dorian didn't miss the self-deprecation, "But there's an old tradition. Two people who care deeply for each other will split a dragon's tooth, so that no matter how far apart life takes them, they'll always be together."_

_It took a moment for the words to settle in, and Dorian finally placed that indescribable feeling as he was kissed again. As he kissed back._

_Love._

_He reached up with one hand and gently stroked one of Bull's ears, having learned long ago it made the beast of a man purr and rumble like an overgrown feline._

"_That's probably not what you intended." Bull added after a moment of quiet._

_Dorian raised a brow, "No…" He admitted, because it was true. He felt Bull's shoulders sag marginally, and pressed on, "But it's funny how life works out that way." He smiled down at the Qunari, seeing the anxiety melt from that shockingly blue eye, "But what does that mean? Kadan? You were saying it a moment ago…"_

_Bull's smile was sheepish but proud. He leaned up to claim another loving kiss that Dorian found himself returning in kind, "It means…my heart." The man admitted._

_The mention of hearts had Dorian's clenching slightly in his chest. Surprise in his eyes as he stared down at Bull and watched the large man watch him for signs of rejection. "You know Bull," he began with a slight smile, "We'll have to get a dwarf's help to cut that fang in half properly…"_

_He was being kissed again, "Kadan…" whispered against his lips._

"_Amatus…" Dorian replied in kind._

He woke in his bed, the sun having long since set outside. He didn't question how he got there, or why, as he recalled sitting out in the garden with his father. Dorian lacked any shame to care about such a horrifically infantile display of emotions, and instead reached out blindly, pawing until he found the axe laid beside him on the bed and curled close.

There were no more tears to be shed as he worked his fingers into the hem of the cloth and closed his hand around the half of a dragon's fang wrapped around the base of the axe's head. He let his thumb smooth over the calloused surface, test the point, and feel comfort from its weight.

"Amatus…" Dorian murmured softly.

Dorian nearly jumped when he heard a soft whuff by his door. He looked over, and actually did jump when he saw the black wolf sitting in his open doorway.

He sat there in silence, stunned, "I-I must be losing my mind." He breathed.

Another whuff and the wolf stood, backing out of his doorway before circling in the hall. Despite the fact that the beast should have been far too large for the small space, he seemed to somehow fit without knocking into anything. Dorian just stared again before another, louder whuff drew him from his scrambling thoughts.

He jumped to his feet, confident that the wolf wasn't there to harm him (for if he had, why wait until Dorian woke up, or was he even awake?).

No sooner did the mage reach his doorway did the wolf start down the path of the carpet leading further into the house. He quickly padded after the creature, never quite able to catch up, and followed the wolf into his father's library.

The lamps were immediately lit in veilfire, casting the room in a green hue and Dorian suddenly understood, "I'm dreaming…" he breathed, then set his eyes on the wolf, "But you're not a dream are you? You're what…a Dreamwalker?"

The wolf looked up at him and for a moment appeared amused, then turned to one of the many shelves of Halward's library and pawed at it. As the Wolf stood up, he appeared far larger than the mage was prepared for and staggered back a few steps until the beast grabbed one of the shelves with his mighty teeth and pulled sharply.

There was an echoing crack as the wood was ripped free of its studs and sent the shelf and its respective books tumbling down to the ground and the Wolf dropped back to all fours, looking back up at Dorian before giving another whuff.

Taking the hint, Dorian stepped forward and knelt down by the pile of strewn tomes, glancing over their titles. One in particular stared up at him, and he reached down, "Forbidden Magics?" He asked, looking up at the Dreamwalker, "I… I can't let myself fall to the temptation of blood magic again, I-"

There was a booming bark ending in a snarl that made Dorian flinch back. "Then what?!" He asked desperately.

He felt the dream fading, the veilfire beginning to dim.

"Whatever it is you're trying to tell me, I…" The wolf turned and walked, vanishing into nothing.

Dorian jerked awake, still in his bed, staring down at his feet. Morning had dawned, throwing light into his room. He glanced around for any sign of the Dreamwalker, but was unsurprised when he found nothing. "What were you trying to say?" he asked as he scrambled out of his bed and to the door.

He followed the path he had taken in his dream to his father's library, turning to the wall of shelves. Dorian thought briefly that in his current state, it would be easy for a demon to tempt him, to throw him onto a dangerous path…but the Dreamwalker had seemed to get angry with him at the suggestion of blood magic.

He found the shelf with the book on Forbidden Magics, but scanned the other titles. His eyes paused on one spine in particular, 'A Study on the Ancient Elves.' He pulled the book down, a cumbersome tome that appeared to have not been opened since its initial printing. He opened the book to skim the contents and stopped at one that made his heart still.

'Chapter Thirteen: The Fadewalkers of Fen'harel'

"Fadewalkers…" he breathed, but as he was turning to the corresponding page he jumped at the press of a hand on his shoulder.

Halward stood behind him, that concerned look in his eyes once more, "Dorian? Are you alright?"

Dorian gathered his wits as he closed the book, "I… I had a dream." He said, looking down at the item in his hands, "One of the Inquisitor's companions was a Dalish elf," Solas would gut him with a glare if he ever knew Dorian had called him a Dalish…again, "In the dream I just…recalled something he said."

"Was this Dalish elf…your…" The man seemed unsure how to phrase it.

Dorian shook his head, "No, no…" He smiled up at his father, "Solas was just a friend, and strictly interested in his studies, no part of any anatomy would get him going, I don't think."

"I see…"

The younger Pavus wondered what Halward would think if he confessed his lover had been a Qunari. He cleared his throat but Halward spoke up, "Dorian…one of the servants told me that you didn't keep your food down yesterday. My boy, you don't look…well…"

Of course Dorian didn't look well, he was a mess.

"You slept most of the day yesterday, it's concerning."

"I don't mean to worry you father. I'm… I'm struggling right now, I confess." Dorian was loathe to admit such weakness, but he was physically unable to hide the crushing effects of his heartbreak.

The elder approached and laid a hand on the book, gently pulling it from his son's fingers, "You should go lay down, I will have Marta bring you something that your stomach can hold."

"At least allow me reading material if I'm to be bound to my bed." The mage tried for flippant but his father seemed unamused.

"Then take a book, but your mind is in no condition for such things as this." He tapped the tome beneath his fingers, "You need rest, son. Body and mind."

"But father I-"

"Dorian…"

Suddenly Dorian felt as if he were seven again, a petulant child being chastised for not wanting to complete his school work. His shoulders slumped in defeat, giving in easily – in no condition to fight or argue. "Very well." He sighed and turned, padding out of the library without even a book to pretend to read.

His bed was comfortable, he had to admit. Plush and wondrous. But he could find no comfort without curling himself around Bull's axe, sliding his hand into the cloth to clutch his half of the dragon's fang.

It wasn't long before Marta came in with a tray of light foods, looking at Dorian with concern. She closed the door gently behind her, "You should have told me you weren't feeling well, Dorian." She said, her air of first name familiarity having come from knowing Dorian since he was attached to his mother's breast. She settled down on the bed carefully, resting the tray on the side table. A dainty hand reached out carefully, smoothing over the mage's brow, threading fingers through his hair, "You have your father very worried."

"I…don't mean to." Dorian breathed, clutching his keepsakes tighter.

The woman shook her head, "No, I don't imagine you do." She pulled her hand away slowly and picked up a glass of water from the tray, "Here, sit up. Drink this." She waited patiently for the man to sit upright, leaning back against his headboard before he took the water, sipping from it and twisting his face. Marta smirked, "A few drops of Royal Elfroot Extract to help ease your stomach."

"I'm not…sick…" Dorian groused, setting the water aside.

"You are, Dorian. But there are more illnesses than just the ones of the body." She looked the man over carefully, "Your body is reacting to something deeper than flesh."

Silence filled the space of the room and Dorian sighed after a while. Words came to his throat and he let them come without a fight, "Is it…possible…to die of a broken heart?"

Marta's eyes slid over the figure of the wrapped axe before coming up to rest on the mage's face, her smile sad. "Some Dalish elves spoke of soul mates, but not in the way humans have come to take it. The Dalish believed that soul mates were one soul belonging to two people, split at birth, and once reunited could not stand to be separated. To tear soulmates apart, whether by death or otherwise, would rip open a wound in the soul itself that was said to slowly bleed them into nothingness."

Dorian's brows rose, "Do you believe such things?"

The woman chuckled, "No, not really. However… I do think there are those who love so wholly with heart and soul that the loss of their loved one can cause a grief that will consume them." She paused and patted the mage's hand, "And I always worried you had such a heart, Dorian. You are guarded, you hide behind masks and armor, but when you love something, you love it with all of who you are. I think it _can _kill you, if you let it."

"I see…"

She smiled at the man sadly, "Was he deserving of your love?"

Dorian smiled at her in return, "Absolutely. Perhaps…more than I gave him credit for."

"Then he would not stand to let this consume you." She said and handed the water glass back to Dorian, "Drink, then eat."

The mage sighed, "Your wisdom is often taken for granted, isn't it?" He asked as he accepted the glass and drank.

She scoffed, "Absolutely always. But if you accept my wisdom, then none of the rest matters."

He smiled again, "Thank you Marta."

She stood to leave, smoothing the front of her apron before dipping her head politely. She was at the door when Dorian spoke up again, "Marta? I have one last question before you go."

The woman glanced over her shoulder, "Yes?"

The mage chewed his lip thoughtfully, "Have you ever heard of the 'Fadewalkers of Fen'harel'?"

She huffed, "I see you became acquainted with some Dalish customs while you were away." After a moment she schooled her face, "I can't say I know anything for certain, but I know what a Fadewalker is, and I know who Fen'harel is. Neither of them are good things. Forget you heard of it Dorian, leave the Dalish customs to the Dalish." And with that she was gone.

Dorian sat in pontificating silence for a while, slowly sipping the water down until it was gone. To his mild surprise, it did help settle his stomach, the twisting ache dulled to a mere annoyance that he could ignore as he pulled over a piece of bread and chewed at it thoughtfully. His foot remained on the haft of the axe beside him as he let his mind wander.

Once the bread was gone, he carefully pulled the dragon's fang free from the axe, holding it carefully in his palm. It was certainly easier to carry about than the axe, though the axe had helped improve his muscle tone. He pulled the leather cord over his head, the point of the fang resting just over his heart where it belonged.

He hadn't worn it since…

He shook his head to try and banish the thoughts, frowning as he forced himself to get up. He drew himself another bath, and settled in to relax and try to recover.

Dorian gave himself three days of relaxation and pampering. By the forth morning he admitted that he felt considerably better, not counting the nightmares. He didn't tell his father about the vial of Lyrium he consumed each night, but it helped him at least find sleep. The Wolf was nowhere to be found in his dreams, leaving him to the darkness of his memories, or worse, to dream of another beside him only to wake alone.

He spent his days with his father whenever he was home. Halward liked to sit in the garden with Dorian and talk about his own past adventures, and his son enjoyed the distraction. When he looked at himself in the mirror now, there was no longer something subhuman staring back at him; the bags were gone from under his eyes, the gaunt features were filling out just slightly, and the glassy haze was fading. He was beginning to look like himself again.

That was why he decided he was well enough to slip into his father's library and pull down the book that the Wolf had shown him. Halward was away for the day, which meant Dorian would be undisturbed as he took a seat behind his father's desk, in the plush leather chair that nearly molded to his body.

With a deep breath he opened the book and began to read.

It didn't take long for him to understand why the Wolf had wanted him to see the book. The pages on Fadewalkers depicted a group of Dalish elves who were recruited by the "Dread Wolf" known as Fen'harel. Given his accused crimes, Dorian quickly understood why Marta had shown distaste at the name.

He found recipes for elixirs that the Fadewalkers took that let Fen'harel guide them into the Fade alongside him, that they could commune with the spirits of the dead, walk through the dreams of the living. One picture depicting a Fadewalker drew Dorian's attention however, and several realizations clicked at once as he stared openly at the trinket he wore around his neck. The blackened jawbone of a beast.

"That would mean…" he said aloud as he closed his eyes for a moment then looked up. The sunlight had vanished behind him and veilfire lit the room. He was no longer alone, however, for across the desk from him sat Solas, legs crossed, hands folded on his knees. "You were a Fadewalker all along."

"That certainly took you a while." The elf mused, his eyes glinting with mirth.

Dorian huffed softly, "I haven't exactly been myself lately." He admitted as he closed the book, "We all knew you walked the Fade, but I thought you hated the Dalish."

Solas wrinkled his nose, "I don't…hate them. I'm simply not one of them. Not all of the 'facts' in that book are truth."

"Regardless, you've been trying to help me." Dorian said, his shoulders slumping as he leaned back.

"Your nightmares are very loud in the Fade, Dorian." The elf said calmly, "You were becoming a beacon to demons. It never occurred to me how much of your soul The Iron Bull truly held. He can hear too, you know. He very nearly couldn't cross over."

The implication made the mage freeze, "You mean…"

"He could have become a demon of Despair. I'll be honest, it's rare to see two mortal souls so deeply connected that one can affect the other through the Veil. It's impressive, if not dangerous. I've kept watch, walked with you in your dreams to keep the demons away."

"But I… Is Bull alright?"

The elf raised a curious brow, then nodded, "Yes. It is among my duties to guide spirits to safety and peace. He waits for you, patiently."

Dorian chewed his lip slightly, turning his eyes down, "I always knew I would lose him, eventually… But I had thought…today isn't the day, that tomorrow would never come."

"Time never stops, Dorian. Tomorrow will always come. But I have travelled with you long enough, I have seen your natural prowess with magic, and I have seen now how deeply your heart can love. That is the true reason I sit here with you now. There are things you yet need to discover, but you're close. When the time comes, I invite you to come take a walk with me…"

Before Dorian could respond he jerked awake, the light flooding his sensitive eyes. He wiped at them with the heel of his palm, "Vishante kaffas…" He muttered, looking down at the book still open in his lap in the waking world, then glanced up and startled with another curse, "I thought you were going to be away for the day."

Halward sat in the seat Solas had previously taken, watching his son with curious eyes. "I completed my errands." The man said simply.

"Oh…" Dorian closed the book for real this time, but kept it in his lap as if to protect it, "I must have fallen asleep while reading. Terribly droll, this material."

His father looked unconvinced, but pressed on nonetheless, "I know you've always liked to make a statement, Dorian, but that necklace of yours seems a bit macabre, even for you. Don't you think?" His gaze flicked down to the dragon fang at his son's chest, then back up to his eyes.

"It was a token." Dorian said honestly, his hand coming up as if to protect that as well.

"Hmm, a dragon fang split in two. I wasn't aware you'd taken up Qunari customs…" Halward's knowing gaze was unflinching and calm as he watched his son show fear and apprehension. "Come now Dorian, that axe you were carrying wasn't meant for a human."

The younger swallowed hard, but relaxed when he saw his father showing no anger, "I know what you taught me as a child, father. And I have come across the monsters you taught me to fear. But Bull…was not one of them."

"I remember that the Inquisitor was a Qunari." Tal'vashoth, Dorian's mind provided quickly in Bull's stead, "Is, actually. I'm assuming he wasn't this 'Bull' you are so enthralled with."

"No… The Iron Bull was the leader of a mercenary group that worked closely with the Inquisition. They were charged with our protection." He answered honestly.

Halward smiled, "Well if I know anything about my son, it's that he doesn't give his heart away easily. He must have truly been something different."

Dorian's fingers clasped the dragon's fang tightly, "He was…"

_Invincible. That was the only word that the mage could think of to properly describe The Iron Bull. Having travelled with the man so much, and having seen each of his scars personally, Dorian had become certain that his lover was unkillable._

_Bull had charged trolls, rushed dragons, cleaved half a dozen men in half with a single swing. During his time with the Inquisition alone he had suffered over fifteen broken ribs, a broken jaw, several stab wounds, no less than three personal assassination attempts, and one very handsy prostitute. He had denounced himself from the Qun and stood before his worst fears, and always walked out on the other side with a smile on his face._

_Dorian had thought that the End of Days would be the day Corypheus raised Skyhold. Part of him had expected to die, to lose friends, to be injured; but the Inquisitor proved to be made of something far better than a corrupted Tevinter mage. Thidran and Bull charged in side by side, brothers in arms, and Bull even got to slay one last dragon._

_Dorian had been wrong however. His End of Days came from the rogue arrow of an Orlesian assassin._

_Corypheus was felled, the Breach sealed, and the world seemed whole again. Dorian had put off coming back to Tevinter now that he had some true time to himself to explore his relationship with Bull, between gratuitous amounts of sex of course. Cassandra was in training to become the next Divine, many of the pilgrims had gone back to their homes, but many still remained at Thidran's side, curious to see what he would do next._

_Of course not everyone was happy with the Inquisitor choosing to keep his title. Some even saw it as a threat. This was something Dorian learned far too late, however._

_Solas had vanished right after Corypheus' defeat, and it had Thidran understandably worried. Dorian empathized with the Inquisitor, and together with Bull, they had scoured Thedas for clues on the elf's whereabouts. Cole often joined them, worried for Solas as well; the spirit seemed lost without the mage to help everyone understand him._

_The four of them were passing through the Dales, enjoying the peace, moving at a leisurely pace. Dorian had admittedly let his guard down, but he was perhaps the only one. Cole was riding on the back of Dorian's horse when he bowed his head and began his chattering, a chill running up the mage's spine._

"_Heroes fall to the tides of history, light shall shine forever upon my homeland. The hero who brought shame shall in turn be shamed for his-"_

"_Thidran, look out!" That was Bull. When Cole had started his babbling, the Qunari had instead turned his attention to everywhere but the spirit, seeking out the source of the mind he was channeling. He spotted the assassin long before anyone else did, arrow already poised, cord released. But Bull was already moving, rushing to his friend's side._

_The arrow sank deep into Bull's shoulder._

_Five more assassins charged out of the brush, knives and bows drawn. By that time everyone was on alert, the horses abandoned as the groups clashed. Dorian was fast to launch fire at the bowmen, not striking the men themselves but lighting the grass around them ablaze._

_Bull's axe was sluggish, but proved to be enough distraction to allow Cole to shadow in from behind, his blade landing true between the joints of their spines._

_Thidran's greatsword finished two of them, and almost as fast as the fight had started, it was over. Dorian banished the fires and turned to check on the others. His eyes locked to Bull, but the man just smiled, despite the arrow still sticking out of his back._

_That was when it all went wrong._

_Bull reached up to calm his horse and paused, letting out a sharp breath. His good eye fluttered and the Qunari swayed on his feet. Thidran caught Bull before Dorian realized he was running to them, and it took both of them to lower the man to the ground without hurting him further. Bull's skin was slick with sweat, his lips parted as he struggled to gulp in air._

"_Nothing…nothing, I hear nothing…" Cole's voice was panicked behind them, and it didn't help Dorian at all._

"_We can't carry him." Thidran said sharply, "There's a camp not far from here, I'll get a healer. You two stay with Bull, Cole? See if you can't get anything from him." The Qunari was on his feet in an instant, rushing to his horse and pulling himself up in a smooth motion._

_Dorian didn't have the time or ability to argue as he stared down at his ailing lover. He was sweating more with every passing second, his breathing growing shallow and labored. Dorian felt powerless to help._

"_Amatus," he breathed, trying to force himself into action. His hands flew up and took Bull's face carefully, the man's skin searing to the touch. A spell was channeled to try and combat the heat with cold as the temperature kept going up. "Amatus, stay with me please." He said, nearly shouted as if the other would hear him through his haze._

"_A single word, a single thought, muffled in the darkness, falling, failing, Kadan. Kadan. Kadan." Cole was holding his head, the rambling not helping Dorian's mounting distress._

_Dorian pressed his hands to Bull's chest, fingers splayed as he struggled to feel the beat of the Bull's heart in his chest. Normally so strong, so loud, thundering, was barely even a faint whisper now. "No… Come on Bull, you're not going to die this way! Not to some shitty Orlesian bastard!" He sank his fingers into the heated flesh and summoned up a well of energy, electricity ramming into the man's chest as if to keep his heart beating. He immediately soothed it over with more cold to battle the growing heat._

_Minutes passed and Dorian's magics were beginning to taper off, and he'd only barely managed to keep Bull's heart going, was having to help the man to breathe even. He was going to lose Bull if he didn't do something. Anything._

_Dorian didn't remember grabbing his knife, didn't really care. The blade plunged into his forearm, dragging a jagged line across the flesh._

_He had gotten only a few lines of blood over Bull's chest when he was suddenly grabbed and wrenched away, "Dorian!" Thidran's voice was distant as the mage struggled, his words panicked and nonsensical, chanting some spell he didn't remember learning even if the rune had yet to be finished. There were others, what Dorian could only presume were healers, but they wouldn't be able to save Bull. "Dorian stop!"_

"_NO!" He shoved and twisted, blood sliding down his arm and hand, trembling with the need to finish his spell._

_The world went dark._

_When next he woke, Dorian found himself in a cot, his arm bound tight in bandages. He tried to sit upright but found he was also bound to the cot. Panic rose, he struggled and flailed, and soon there were hands pressing him down, Thidran was over him with wide eyes, saying something._

_It took several minutes for Dorian to calm enough to process his surroundings._

_He was back in Skyhold, he could see the ramparts out of the window in his peripherals. But his eyes were focused wide on Thidran, silently pleading in words he was unable to speak._

"_Dorian…" The man breathed, "Dorian do you remember what happened?"_

_He nodded shakily, "Where's Bull? Is he alright? Please, I…"_

_Thidran was somber, his eyes apologizing before his words could. "The Healers said it was…the Farrow Poison. By the time they got there-"_

"_No!"_

"_There was nothing they could do."_

"_You can't tell me that!" Dorian snarled, trying to pull himself from the cot, held back by the bind as he thrashed and snarled like an animal, "You're the fucking Inquisitor! You've walked through the Fade! He was protecting YOU!" He was too distressed to summon his magic, too far out of his right mind to consider the volume of his voice._

_Thidran swallowed and appeared honestly mournful, "We tried. We did everything we could."_

"_You stopped my spell!" Dorian snapped, unaware and uncaring of the tears running down his face, "I could have saved him but you-"_

"_Do you really think Bull would have wanted to be brought back with blood magic Dorian?!"_

"_I don't fucking CARE!" He snarled, and when he gave up on fighting his restraints he curled in on himself on the cot, his hands holding his head, "I don't fucking care!" He snapped again, "I would have rather he be alive and hate me, than…than…" The loneliness was curling in his chest with his friend's admitted betrayal._

"Dorian?" Halward's voice pulled the mage from his thoughts and he became aware of the tears running down his face anew.

He quickly reached up to wipe them away with the heel of his palm, "I…I'm sorry."

"It's alright. One can't expect these things to be fixed in just a few days." His father's voice was calm.

Dorian nodded, then closed his eyes, "I have…something to confess, father." He began, now that the thought was fresh. He moved to set the book down on the desk and pulled back the sleeve of his shirt to expose the jagged scar running imperfect up his forearm, "When…when Bull was dying… I was losing him… I didn't know what else to do. I prayed and prayed for something, anything, and I…" he swallowed, "I drew my blood. I would have given…anything…to save him."

Halward looked stern, but not surprised, "Damnit Dorian, do you have any idea what could have happened?!" He asked sharply, "I thought you would have learned from my mistakes."

"I won't…apologize." Dorian said honestly, sighing, "I love him. I did what I thought was necessary, and I won't…take it back."

There was a long silence in the room, and Dorian found himself legitimately surprised when he saw a tear trace down Halward's gaunt features, and the man smiled bitterly, "To think... I opened my veins to make you into something more fitting of the Pavus name. You opened yours to save the life of the man you love." The man's shoulders slumped and more tears joined the first, "I realize now why my spell didn't work. It had nothing to do with the incantation being wrong, or not giving enough blood. A spell would never work if there was nothing to change," his smile lost its bitter edge, "You were already a man beyond worth of the Pavus name. I was just too blind to see it."

The admission made Dorian swallow hard, his gratitude getting caught in his throat.

Slowly Dorian stood and moved around the desk, "Father…"

"Dorian? Do you remember what happened?" Halward asked, his voice calm.

The mage scrunched his brows, "I…remember what?"

Consciousness returned to Dorian all at once, and yet again he jerked upright and looked around. He was in his bed, in his room, the morning sun washing through his window. The man let out a shaky breath and rubbed his face with his hand, "What's…going on." He asked himself. He had thought he was awake, he could have sworn it.

Slowly the man pulled himself to his feet and wobbled over to his mirror. He frowned when he saw that his reflection wasn't what he remembered, particularly in the large scar running up the side of his neck and face, marring once perfect features. He reached up to touch it, then pulled his hand away to stare for that too had new marks, evidence of deep gashes…

"What…!?"

Dorian quickly worked his shirt off and stared openly. His entire body was littered in long, ugly marks, the worst of them starting from…

"_Dorian!" Thidran's voice was sharp and loud. The mage struggled and fought in the Qunari's hold, trying to get back to Bull… His arm seared with pain where the knife dug in, something black and pulsing feeding from the wound, sinking into his body…_

The mage stepped back from his mirror and turned his eyes away. Panic rose up in his chest. Marta stood in his doorway looking calm and serene in the face of Dorian's mounting horror. "Relax, Dorian." She said.

"How can I relax, what's going on?!"

"Just relax. Let it happen."

Demon, his mind supplied. He was being tormented by a demon! He immediately stepped back and cursed, summoning a spell to his hand only to find that his own magic rejected him. He grabbed for Bull's axe laying on the bed, hefting it up with a grunt.

Everything hurt. Blood rose from the opening scab wounds, running down his arms, pain seeped in to his very core and he let out a cry as the axe fell from his hands. "Demon!" He settled on hissing.

Marta sighed, "I'm not a demon, Dorian."

"You lie!"

"I'm not a demon!" She insisted sharply.

The mage huffed, falling to one knee as the pain seared through his flesh. "Then what are you?!"

_Dorian turned his eyes briefly to his hand, the black pulsing disfigurement clawing under his skin, up his arm. Everything hurt; he screamed in his agony as the thing, the demon, tore more flesh higher up his arm. Then he realized there were more of them, tearing at him, the Inquisitor powerless to help without the Anchor. There was nothing he could do when these things were inside of Dorian now._

"I'm a memory." The woman said, calmer now as she watched Dorian struggling on the floor. "Stop fighting, Dorian."

He didn't listen, and continued to fight against the flood of painful memories. He had to figure out what was going on in front of him first.

_Blood. So much blood. Most of it stained black. Ruining his clothes as well as his skin._

"A memory…" he grit out, struggling to maintain his connection to reality.

"Yes, and it's time that you remembered." Halward's voice took over Marta's, as the man now stood in her place where she had been a moment before. "You're only hurting yourself. If you don't stop, there's nothing that can be done."

"Done against what?" Dorian snapped. Blood was pooling on the ground beneath his hands.

The man looked mournful, "You're becoming one."

"Becoming what?" He gasped as a fresh wave of agony tore up his spine, screamed when he regained his breath, though it burned to do so.

Solas' howl shattered what little remained of the mage's concentration…

_His veins opened over Bull's body, Dorian muttered the words that came to his mind. Words whispered from beyond the Veil, promising him. The Iron Bull could be spared, no matter his ailment, so long as Dorian gave himself body and mind to Them. He would do so, he would give anything to see his lover alive._

_The runes were not formed by the mage, and instead as the blood fell onto the grayed flesh, the glyph began to form itself, the plea accepted. His body would be the price._

_They lunged from the Veil, weak from the crossover. He heard Cole screaming, but these Demons weren't interested in the spirit. The first ones grabbed onto his opened arm and sank into his muscles and bones, tore through his living being carelessly, sent agony ripping through him._

_That was when he was grabbed, "Dorian!" Thidran was screaming, his eyes wide as he saw the amalgamations forming. The only one visible was the one feeding from Dorian's original wound, but there were so many more now. The Demons were tainting his blood, making it run black._

_Dorian had never been sure before that very moment what it felt like to have one's soul touched. But the Demons ripped at his soul and the pain was…indescribable. Every good thing he'd ever experienced in the universe felt as if it meant nothing, hope bled from him like a gaping wound._

_The Wolf's howl gave the Demons pause though, the agony stopping for a moment._

_Then the physical pain simply stopped, leaving only the hopelessness behind…_

The pounding in his head was beginning to abate as he opened his eyes. He was no longer in his family's home, but instead he recognized the greenish hue and jagged appearances of the Fade around him. His eyes were wide as he looked around and made his final realization, "I…I'm dead…"

"The Demons took your body." Dorian spun to see Solas standing on a rock not far off, his eyes mournful, "They'd have taken your soul as well, had I not interfered. Even as far away as I was, I heard the commotion."

The man swallowed and pulled himself to his feet, "No, why did you interfere! I was going to-"

"The Demons were going to twist your deal. You wanted Bull alive, they'd have revived the body. Nothing of your lover would have remained." Solas explained calmly, "So I carried you and Bull to the Fade. However your soul was injured. Greatly so."

Dorian just stared down at the green waters, that feeling of hopelessness returning.

"Dorian?" The elf's tone was calm and a pale hand was offered out to the human, "Will you take a walk with me?"

The mage looked up to the Fadewalker, warily at first but his hesitance ebbed away. He reached out to take the hand, "What choice do I have?"

"All of it." Was the elf's reply as the scene around them began to melt away. Dorian looked around as the craggy wastelands of the Fade turned to a wide open forest as Solas began walking, pulling Dorian along behind him.

It was the forest from his dreams, he realized as they wound through endless trees. As he looked up into the impossibly high canopies he saw dazzling lights bouncing through the leaves, spirits he guessed. The air was still and peaceful, and as he listened he heard the soft undercurrent of a song always in the distance.

"You're seeing the Fade through the eyes of a spirit." Solas explained, "I have been carrying your soul with me to ward off the Demons who would finish your corruption while you healed. Now and then you would open your eyes as we walked."

"Those were my dreams…" Dorian said softly.

Solas nodded, "I'm not surprised. Your soul crafted a stasis world for itself while it healed. I kept watch. You needed to recover, and the knowledge of your death would only serve to hurt you further. But that hopelessness you felt, those were the injuries to your very soul, bleeding you of hope and love."

"You told me that…Bull almost became a Demon?"

The elf hummed, then nodded, "As I carried you two to the Fade, your soul kept crying out, loud and restless. He could hear it, as could many Demons. They wanted you both. I found safety for Bull, but you still needed to recover. Your cries would attract danger no matter where I put you."

Dorian swallowed, "You did all of this for me?"

"What you did was a desperate act of love. Foolish, absolutely, but you paid the price. You did too much good in life for me to simply let the Demons have what remained."

"I… I am grateful, Solas. More than you'll ever know." The mage said, then stumbled on a branch. This was often the part of his dream where he fell and was unable to get up, however now he remained on his feet and Solas watched with a calm smile. "May I…may I see Bull?"

The Fadewalker smirked, "Only if you can find him."

"What? But I don't know how to navigate this forest."

"You don't have to. No matter how far apart you are, you are still connected." Stark hazel eyes flickered down to Dorian's chest, where the dragon's fang still hung, "There are some objects that take on small pieces of one's soul, and can be carried even through the Veil."

The mage's hand slipped away from Solas' and came up to wrap around the dragon's fang hanging over his heart. He felt his soul swell, and this was a pleasant feeling. It yearned and pulled the man's attention away from the elf, turned his eyes through the trees, and as he turned around fully the remnants of the forest tapered away to a wide open field reminiscent of the Hinterlands.

Before him was a sight that made the final vestiges of hopelessness and pain seep away as The Iron Bull stood before him with a smirk on his face. "I knew you'd find me, Kadan."

The sound Dorian made was unflattering, but he didn't care. In two steps he crossed the last of the space between them and threw himself into the Qunari's arms, finding himself embraced wholly and completely, feeling his lover's joy radiating with his own. They held each other desperately, as if their very souls depended on it, because perhaps they did.

"I'm sorry." Dorian breathed against Bulls' neck, "I'm so sorry, I almost…"

"It's alright, Kadan. All that matters is that you're here now, and you're alright." Bull pulled away some and leaned in to press a kiss to Dorian. It was so unlike their physical kisses, for this was the touching of two souls, mingling and sharing one another in a way that transcended anything of the living world. This, he knew, was paradise.

After a moment their kiss was broken, leaving Dorian feeling drunk on his joy. Bull's eyes turned up past the mage's shoulder to where Solas watched calmly, "Thank you." He said with pure honesty, "Truly, this is…beyond what I could have hoped."

The elf smiled, "I pray you find your peace here, friends." He turned and within three steps he was gone.

Dorian turned back to Bull and kissed him hard again, just to feel the joy that coursed through their very souls.


End file.
